La Vie Newsie
by passionate fire
Summary: Instead of King of New York, what if the Newsies had sung something a little different? Rated T


**Disclaimer—Owns not Passionate Newsies or Rent. Passionate wishes does she. Talk like Yoda Passionate will. Mmm. **

**A/N: Hey, Everyone. This is Passionate Fire here. Before we get started with this awesome little song (and dance) fanfic, I wanted to clear up a few things.**

**First—this is a song from the Movie/Musical Rent. It's called La Vie Boheme. (and I also used La Vie Boheme B) La Vie Boheme is French for "The Bohemian Life" Only in this story, they're singing "La Vie Newsie" So, that means the Newsie Life. **

**Second—I cut off some stuff from the song to make it shorter. This story is already nine pages ((Woot!)) and it's really hard to rewrite songs to get their rhythm and beat right. If you are a RENT fan, you will notice that I cut off Angel's solo in La Vie Boheme B. Sorry about that. I also cut off a whole stanza somewhere in the middle. Again, sorry. It's hard.**

* * *

"Hey---Hey, look at ya Jack, you look like a gentleman there," Mush said happily, sticking his finger on his friend's photo.

Jack brushed him aside. "Wouldja get your fingers off my face?"

"Don't feel too bad, Jackie-Boy. Davey here looks like some kinda nut!" Race reassured him. And it was true. David Jacobs was holding his foot in pain on the photo, on account of his foot being stepped on right before Denton snapped it.

Hurt, David replied without thinking, "At least I don't look like I'm in love with Spot, like you and Blink are!"

That was also true. Blink and Spot looked…erm, more than friends, and Race didn't look like he was that uncomfortable either.

"Hey, no need for that!" Blink said hotly. Spot rolled up his sleeves.

"You little smart-ass!" He threatened. "I'll soak yah!"

"Calm down fellas." Denton stepped in between the snarling pair. "You all look great. Like you're posing for an artist, or something."

"Posin' for artists?" Race scoffed. "We'se artists ourselves! We'se living La Vie Boheme!"

"You know French?" Denton asked in delight.

"What are you talkin' about?" Skittery was being his usual pessimistic self. "Bohemia is dead!"

"No, it ain't!" Race replied. Then, to Denton, he said, "Yeah, Kloppy taught us a bit. Loined his'try, and about Bohemia."

All of the other newsies nodded.

"We live in New York City in 1899, Race," Skittery reminded him. "We'se livin' in Calcutta. Dat's why we'se goin' on strike."

"Hmmmph!" Race waved a hand in the air and climbed onto the table. "But you're right. It ain't La Vie Boheme…we ain't artists…it's La Vie Newsie!"

He opened his mouth slowly and started to sing.

"Deahly beloved…

We gatha heah to say our goodbyes…."

Racetrack laid down on the table, dramatically pretending to be a dead body.

"Heah he lies!" Blink shouted.

"No one no his worth." Race sang. "The late, great son 'o Mudda Earth

On this day, where we celebrate da boith…

Of dis little strike we call our own

We raise our glass…"

Race jumped up. He lowered his pants and mooned Skitts some unwanted shiny Italian tush. David covered Les's eyes. Skittery pouted.

"You'se bet your ass to…La Vie Newsie!"

The others hooted and Race pulled up his pants again.

Boots was confused. French was not one of his strong subjects. "But what does dat mean?" He asked.

Race cuffed him on the ear with the newspaper. "My deah boy, it means livin' da Newsie life. Livin' free. Carrying da Banna. Got it?"

"No…"

But Boot's confusion was ignored as Race started to make toasts. He grabbed somebody's water glass and held it up, thoroughly enjoying the spotlight.

"Ta days of inspiration

Makin' something outta nothin'

The need to express, to communicate

Ta goin' against the grain

Goin' Insane

Goin' Mad!"

Racetrack started to dance around the table, accidently stepping on Dutchy's hand. "Sorry, Dutch." He apologized, as Dutchy swore in pain. Then he continued.

"To lovin' tension,

No pension

To more than one dimension

To starvin' for attention

Hatin' convention

Need intervention

Not ta mention, of course, hatin' your old man!

To ridin' da trolly midday past the good lookin' suits!

To fruits!

To no absolutes

To absolutes—"

"To goils!" Mush interrupted.

"—To da New York Woild,

To smelly garbage cans!"

"To bein' an kid for once," Jack added, "Instead of a scab!"

"La Vie Newsie!" Everyone, including Denton, yelled joyfully, catching on.

Race jumped off the table, and took his seat. His share of the spotlight was over.

"So, how's da goil you were talkin' about?" Spot asked Jack, sipping his water.

"She's real pretty." Jack smiled dreamily.

"Got a nice rack?"

David's ears turned red. "Uh, hey m-Mister—"

Spot turned to him, irritated. "What?"

"She's my sister."

Spot's mouth fell open. "Oh."

The balding waiter stepped in, taking orders. "So that's five miso soup," He read off. "Four chicken salads, and a roast beef with sarsaparilla?"

Les blinked. "Ew…"

"Tastes the same." Shrugged Specs.

"If ya close your eyes." Blink muttered.

"--And thirteen orders of fries! Is that it here?"

"Cokes and Beer!" They shouted. Even though the minors would only get cokes, and they knew it.

Bumlets and Swift jumped onto the table, twirling around and around. Bumlets swung on the celling fan before yelling out:

"To hand crafted beers made in local breweries!"

Swifty joined in. "To marbles, to slingshots—"

"To gruel and beans and cheese!" They sang together.

"To leather, to knickers,

To nuns that feed us bread

To sleepin' in da gutter

And wantin' Weasel's head!"

Jack and Mush then stood up, proclaiming their love for the opposite sex.

"Lovin' and cuddlin'

Don't matta what you're paid

Kissen' and list'nin—"

Spot yelled out, "And tryin' to get laid!"

_I really need to keep Les away from Spot Conlon_, thought David 

Amid their laughter, Mush and Jack finished.

"Sellin', to yellin' to headlines when they're new!"

"To Medda!" Boots screamed.

Les bounced up and down in his seat. "To Toby!"

"And our man Denton, too!" David added.

Mush started naming off all the boroughs in New York City. "Da Bronx, and Harlem, Micktown and our Queens."

Jack and Spot stood up and spit shook. "Brooklyn toughies!" Jack gestured to Spot.

"Manhattan Wimps!" Spot replied.

"—to every pape we've seen!"

Snoddy, Pie Eater, Itey, and Snitch all crawled up on the table, each singing a solo of their own.

"To Pulitzer!"

"An' Hoist!"

"An' Weasel!"

"An' Horace Greenly, too!"

"Why Western Jim went through America ta get ta Santa Fe!" Jack sang.

"La Vie Newsie!" Everyone screamed.

Spot poked David in the shoulder. "Why are you so worried about your sister?" He cocked an eyebrow. "If I had one I wouldn't be too worried."

David's answer was short. "We're close."

Les threw an arm around David. Spot looked at them curiously.

"Bruddas?"

After that, it was absolute chaos. Every single person—With the exception of Skittery, who was still sulking in his chair-- was fueled by hyperness and the urge to toast things. No one was sitting down by now. They were all dancing and twirling around the table at Tibby's.

"—To No shame!" They sang in unison. "Nevah playin' the fame game!"

Snipeshooter breathed in his cigar. "To Havanas!"

"To Sodomy

It's Between God an' Me!

To Vaudeville!"

Jake squealed like a little girl at this point.

"La Vie Newsie!"

Spot suddenly had an idea. A wonderful, wonderful idea. He hopped onto the table and raised his hands, expecting absolute silence. He got it.

"Hey, how's about we have a rally?" suggested Spot. "We can have it at Irving Hall, and it'll be the biggest, noisiest blowout this town's ever seen!"

"Shoah, Spot." Came Dutchy's sarcastic voice. "An' it'll have dinna, right?"

"Yup!" Spot grinned. "An a disgraceful habit will happen immediately following dinna. Racetrack Higgins, just back from his spectacular engagement at Sheepshead, will show us all how to bet on a horse ---upside down—while accompanying himself on the harmonica. Which he ain't nevah studied."

They were instantly back in the mood, hooting and hollering.

Jack's strong voice came out of the crowd. "An' Bryan Denton will show us his new Story about Davey's inability to hold a goilfriend in summa"

David, ignoring Jack, took the reins. "And Medda Larkson, wrapped only in feathers—"

--Many newsies laughed at this—

"Will show us all her Irving Hall dance moves to the sounds of papes bein' picked off the press!"

Everyone clapped. That idea actually sounded pretty good.

Then David smiled mischievously. "An' Jack will sing us all a breathtakingly beautiful love song."

Uh Oh. Jack's mind warned him.

"---That doesn't remind us of Santa Fe." Mush tore Kid Blink's hat off his head and put it on his own curly brillo pad hair.

"An Kid Blink Ballet will model the latest in eyepatch wearin' fashions!" He pretended to walk down a catwalk, much to the displeasure of Blink. "While accompanyin' hisself with a stack of papas."

"And Davey will recount hisself as a school boy." Race grinned. "Including the tales of his successful prgrammin' as he joined da ranks of the Newsies and taught us all to open da gates—"

"AND SEIZE THE DAY!" Everyone yelled.

David blinked. Race complimented him?"

"Hey guys!" Denton laughed. "Sit down. The food's here."

* * *

They were going to have a rally. David couldn't believe it. Spot's crazy idea had actually become a real one.

"Woooooo!" Pie Eater shouted as they made plans. The Newsies, amid the dirty plates, started their song again.

"YEAH! To sellin'!"

Of course, only the King of the Newsies could sing this one. Jack took the solo and crazily jumped around his friends.

"No way to make a livin'

Charmin' people

Pain, Perfection

Muscle Cramps

Greedy Tightwads

Short Young Lives

An' eatin' problems!"

"Newspapas!" The others yelled out. Denton himself yelled

"Adventure

Tedium

No family

Boring Headlines

Dark Rooms

Perfect Places

Egos

Money

Pulitzer an' Sleaze!"

"Gamblin'!"

Race's face lit up as he started to describe his one, true love. He tap-danced around the table, under waiters, and through disgruntled customers.

"Revolution, Justice

Screaming for a winna,

Playin' Poka

Risks and Danga,

Makin' Noise and Placin' Bets!"

"To Street Rats, Scum, or Shrimps, an' orphans, too!" They yelled out common insults to each other.

"To me!" Blink yelled.

"To me!" Mush twirled.

"To you, and you, and you, you, and you!" They said, pointing fingers at everyone.

"To people livin' with livin' with, Not Dying from Disease!"

"For he among us, without sin, be da foist to come down!" The newsies pointed at Denton, who blushed.

"La Vie Newsie!" Everyone cried, laughing. "La Vie Newsie!"

"Anyone outta the mainstream?" Race asked. "Is anyone in da mainstream?"

"Is dere anyone alive with a papa drive?" Jack inquired, knocking him on the head.

"Tear down the wall, Don't we all?" David laughed.

Finally, Skittery, who had not moved from his chair, stood up. "The opposite of sellin' papes ain't starvin!" He proclaimed, finally giving into the fun that was singing Newsie praises.

'It's prostitution!"

Then again, maybe he didn't.

An awkward silence filled the other boys. David groaned, wondering how much trouble he was going to be in at home when Les asked Mama about prostitution.

Boots finally screamed, "Uh…Yeah!" He jumped up and down. "It's prostitution!"

The others backed Boots up. They stared weirdly at Skittery, who was sulking again.

"Yeah! Woooo! It's prostitution!"

Race climbed back on the table. "Viva La Vie Newsies!" He shrieked, falling backwards into a sea of newsboys. They picked him up and set him on the ground easily, cheering.

Then, they got kicked out. The waiters had had enough.

**A/N-- Reviews, good or bad, make my day. Just so you know.**


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